


The Light in Our Pathways

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never talked about it, why they each hated Autumn. </p>
<p>That didn't stop them from helping each other through it as best as they could, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light in Our Pathways

**Author's Note:**

> An Autumn/Halloween 2015 prompt.
> 
> Here have a fic where all I do is repeatedly write about my romantic weaknesses of face holding, face kissing, tender holding, and intense affection and adoration. I’m so predictable it’s stupid. Damian’s 23/24, Titus is a magical dog who lives forever. I don’t know enough about Tim’s parents, so I probably fucked that up. This takes place mid-October through mid-November, and my tie-ins to the actual season of fall/Halloween are so incredibly weak. None of the instances have anything to do with each other, sans the last two. The dudes live at the manor, and spend their days annoying the piss out of Bruce. I’m sure I had ten more things to say here, but forgot them all. Title from song ‘Thomas Edison’ by Noble Hunter.

They never talked about it, why they each hated Autumn.

And maybe hate was too strong a word.

Because they enjoyed the weather, the smells. Enjoyed the colors and the sweaters, the decorations. Even the seasonal drinks. That was all fine. That was all good.

But it was everything else.

The memories. The feelings. The triggers. The flashbacks.

That’s what they didn’t like.

He’d been up for a while now, staring blankly at the crook of his elbow, at the dark hair of Damian, who was using his arm as a pillow. Watching the light melt into the room, fill the walls with a golden light.

And when he heard the cries of the birds outside, he sighed, rolled onto his back, careful not to bump Tim behind him, and stare at out the window, at the trees already changing colors, at the leaves already falling.

He could feel it all, like an oncoming thunderstorm.

Jason couldn’t help but sigh again, curl back to his side, wrap his arm tightly around Damian’s torso, intertwine his fingers with Dick’s.

This was going to suck.

~~

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much.

He’d volunteered for this, the annual Fall Festival in Gotham Park. The police department always had a booth there, there to create community ties and meet some of the citizens they vowed to protect.

This year, they had face painting. Ghouls, ghosts, vampires, zombies. Whatever the kids wanted. And it’s not like he was the one doing the painting. He was helping with the pumpkins. He’d just glanced up, for half a second.

And he didn’t know why it bothered him so much.

Because it’s not like the child looked like them. The boy was _six_. Freckled, with light brown hair, getting blood painted onto his face. Fake blood, from fake wounds. He didn’t look like Damian, or like Jason. He didn’t even look like _Tim_.

But that’s all he could see.

Because contrary to popular belief, Dick wasn’t always the best at learning from the bad and moving on. Sometimes, he never moved on at all.

And as that little boy got that fake blood painted on his cheeks, all Dick could see was the _real_ blood that covered Damian’s face when he died. The real blood that oozed from gashes, that oozed from underneath lifeless eyes, when Dick held his ten-year-old body in his arms and carried him from Wayne tower.

All he could see was Jason in his nightmares, from after his Little Wing had been taken from him. The dents in his cheeks from the edge of the crowbar, that blood exploding from his flesh with every hit.

All he could see was his precious little Timmy, hooked up to every medical machine in the world, looking sad and tired and alone, on that gurney in the cave. The blood barely dried, the wounds barely healed, on his chubby little cheeks, but Tim pushing himself anyway. Leaping off the gurney with a limp, saying, “I’m fine, Dick, honest. I’ve gotta go, I’ve got a bad guy to stop.”

The little boy laughed, overjoyed by his new makeup, and suddenly all Dick could hear was the snap of a trapeze wire. All he could see was the pool of blood spreading underneath the caved-in skull of his father, the shattered cheekbone of his mother.

He wasn’t squeamish. He could deal with blood. He was a vigilante, after all. He’d dealt with it forever.

But he hated the monster costumes. Hated the zombie makeup.

Because when he saw it on a child, whether real or fake, it started up a dangerous slippery slope. First Jason, then Damian – the two he lost in the bloodiest ways possible – then Tim – who he never lost but, _god_ , how many times did he almost? – then friends, then former lovers, then _family_. Then his _parents_ – the first loss of many. The first loss that, without it, he would have never met these people. Never loved so hard or lost so much.

What would have happened, if he hadn’t lost them? If he never met Bruce Wayne, never helped in his crusade, never-

“Dick?”

Dick jumped, tripped over a chair. The kids sitting there drawing on the pumpkins all laughed, as Dick glanced up, let recognition filter into his mind.

“Tim?”

And Tim laughed, like it was the silliest question. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“What’re you…” Dick gulped, tried to shake the shadows that were trying to engulf his mind. “What’re you doing here?”

“This is a Wayne Enterprises sponsored event, babe.” Tim explained gently, pushing up the sleeves of his deep red sweater. “Not to mention the office is right across the street.”

“Oh.” Dick mumbled, as Tim tugged on his fingers, pulled him away from the booth. “Oh, uh…yeah.”

“Damian and I just thought we might stop by for a quick lunch. He’s over grabbing some of those apple spice muffins from the fire department’s table.” Tim explained, reaching up to hook his arm around Dick’s. He frowned, though, squeezing Dick’s bicep with his other hand as he tilted his head. “Hey…are you okay?”

“Sure.” Dick tried a smile, but by the crease in Tim’s brow, he knew he was failing. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Tim countered, a little on the harsh side. His stare was fierce, as it always when it came to his lovers and their well-being. Dick saw another question on his lips, or a threat to tell Damian once their youngest appeared, a promise that the two of them would gang up on him, like they always did, but he never got to ask it, as suddenly some of the children let out shrieks of excitement.

Tim’s eyes darted back, just in case, just to be sure, and Dick felt his fingers twitch against his arm.

“Oh. _Oh_ …” He looked back up at Dick and – he knew. Somehow, some way, Tim knew. And Dick shouldn’t have been surprised. Tim was the smartest of them, the most attentive. It didn’t matter that Dick never talked about it, never mentioned it. Tim knew everything about each of them, had to, for his own emotional security. Had to know their fears and anxieties. Had to know, so he could work to fix them, and rid them from the minds of those he loved most.

It was his life mission to make them feel loved and feel safe, he’d told them that himself, the last time they’d all gotten drunk. And they all knew he meant it.

Gently, he unwound from Dick’s arm, reached up and held his face. “It’s not real,” He whispered, stroking at his cheeks with his thumbs. Dick couldn’t help but close his eyes, too ashamed, too scared. “That little boy is not hurt. _None of us_ are hurt either.”

“You were.” Dick returned softly. “You _could_ be.”

“Hey – Look at me.” And Dick did, had to, when one hand left his face, running through his hair. He stared down into Tim’s eyes, into their calming blue, as the younger smiled, pressed their foreheads together. “We’re _not_.”

Dick gulped, the repetition on his tongue.

“And even if we were, it wouldn’t be your fault, okay? It _never_ was, not even for the other two. And never _will_ be.” Tim added tenderly. “Now come on. You don’t want Damian to see you like this, do you?”

“I didn’t want _you_ to see me like this, gorgeous.” Dick admitted with a shaky laugh, wiping at the phantom tears as he leaned forward, pecked the corner of Tim’s mouth. “But seeing as how you _did_ …”

“Now you know how I feel about you three _hiding_ things.” Tim hummed, returning the kiss, smack on Dick’s lips. He lingered there, practically nuzzling, before pulling away, blue eyes sparkling. “…And you know what? I think as punishment for trying to do just that…I think you need to take the afternoon off. I think you need to make it up to me by spoiling me and Damian rotten.”

It was a sporadic direction, and Dick couldn’t help but wonder if that had been the whole point of this little lunchtime visit.

“Tim.” He glanced around, more looking for Damian than anything. How long could grabbing a few muffins take? “I’m _working_.”

“You’re _volunteering_.” Tim corrected. “And I’m sure they can survive without you. Just tell them you’re not feeling well, which, might I add, is not a _complete_ lie.”

“Tim-”

“Are you really going to say no to the event sponsor?” Tim almost purred, a smirk playing at his lips.

Dick blinked, mouth agape, before he huffed a laugh. “And you’re really gonna play that _dirty?_ ”

“Better me than Damian. He’d just threaten to take all your money.” Tim spun away, strolling down the path, knowing full well Dick was going to follow. “He’s been wanting to fire the entire Board and give their salaries to a local cat shelter for years. Don’t think he wouldn’t do something similar here just for a quick afternoon visit with his favorite _officer of the law_.”

Dick trotted to catch up with him, grabbed his hips and pulled him tight to his side. “You two are going to be the death of me.”

“Sorry, we already promised that to Jason.” Tim’s face suddenly lit up. “Speaking of which, we should invite him too. It’s been a while since we’ve had a spontaneous date.”

Dick laughed and rolled his eyes, catching sight of Damian coming towards them in his periphery. He waved, leaning his head against Tim’s, even as the other played on his phone, finding Jason’s number. “Tim?”

“Hm?”

Dick squeezed his side, twisted his fingers in the slack of Tim’s sweater. “…Thank you.”

Tim didn’t say anything, not for a moment, but then suddenly shifted in Dick’s hold, leaning over and kissing Dick’s jaw.

“I love you too, Dick.”

~~

The statement was a surprise, and completely unprompted.

“We didn’t do this.”

Jason finished his gulp of cider, relishing the warmth as it slithered down his throat, before turning his head, glancing at his partner on the bench.

They were working, technically. Batman had gotten word that something might go down in this neighborhood, during the mandated trick-or-treating times. And it was always better to be safe than sorry.

So here they were, sitting in their civvies – Jason in old jeans, an Aerosmith t-shirt and his favorite jacket, Tim in nicer jeans, a black pea-coat and a red-striped scarf – on the edge of the park, sipping on the stereotypical seasonal drinks, watching family after family trek down the street in search of candy.

“Didn’t do what?”

“ _This_.” Tim shrugged, motioning with his own steaming cup. “Trick or treating. We were always busy. Or, at least, my parents were. Travelling, galas, parties. They just…never really had time.”

“So, what,” Jason leaned forward. “Are you telling me you _never_ went _trick or treating?_ ”

“No.” Tim chuckled. “I did. My housekeeper took me a few times. And I did it with the Titans one year, as a joke, when we were barely out of preteens. I just mean…”

He paused. Sighed. Looked over.

“I never did it with my parents. We never…” He looked back at Jason. “It was never the three of us. Never Jack, Janet and Tim. Never even Jack and Tim or Janet and Tim. Hell, we never even passed out _candy_.” A pause, to sip his pumpkin spice. “Halloween just…wasn’t a holiday we did as a family.”

Tim sounded sad about that. And Jason didn’t like it.

“…Do you hate them for it?”

“No, of course not.” Tim shook his head, scrunched his face. “It’s just…I don’t know. It’s been _years_ , and I just…” Another stop, then a slump. “I miss them.”

Jason knew that before the other even thought it.

“I think I _regret_ it, more than anything.” Tim continued, pointedly looking away, when a father passed by, his son squealing on his shoulders. “Maybe if I’d have known, if any of us had known, how… _little_ time we were going to have, then maybe…”

And Jason had been there, in that dark hole, on the loop of what-ifs.

He’d be damned if he let Tim go there, too.

“So you didn’t do Halloween.” Jason cut off, taking another sip of his drink. He glanced down the road, did one large sweep, before turning his attention back to Tim. “What holidays did you do?”

And suddenly – a grin broke out across Tim’s face. Warm and nostalgic and _bright_.

He leaned against Jason’s arm. Bounced their shoulders and announced: “We did a _mean_ Thanksgiving.”

Jason laughed, mostly at Tim’s delivery. “How so?”

“Mom would make everything. And I mean, it was only the three of us, so we never like…went all out. We had the turkey, yeah, and then we’d pick three or four other dishes, and she would make them. I’d help sometimes, but I tended to get in the way.” Tim explained, with a joy in his voice that was attractive, had Jason leaning back and flopping his arm across the back of the bench, tickling gently at Tim’s opposite arm. “Now Dad, he _really_ got in the way. Would call himself the _taste-tester_ , and just annoy Mom. Distract her and like, try to eat half the dish. Then when she was about to smack him, he’d break out in song. Sometimes Christmas carols, just to annoy her more. Sometimes love songs, as he pulled her away from the stove and waltz her around the kitchen.”

Jason smiled, took another inhale of cider. “Sounds nice.”

“It was.” Tim vowed. He looked back down the street, chuckled and pointed towards a little girl dressed as a tutu-wearing doctor. Jason only glanced, flashed a grin. “…It was the _best_.”

And Jason could hear that giddy nostalgia waning, could hear Tim dropping back into his reverie. Immediately, Jason tightened his fingers on Tim’s coat, held his shoulder and pulled Tim into his side. Tim didn’t fight him, curling into his side, leaning his head on Jason’s shoulder and clutching his coffee with both hands.

“I miss them.” He said blankly. “I don’t know what it is about the fall that makes me think of them more often.”

“Babe.”

“Maybe it’s because they both died in the fall, ironically enough.” Tim rambled, glancing up when a shriek let out at the end of the street. Just an excited baby seeing a dog. “Mom in October and Dad in early November.”

“Tim-”

“Maybe it’s just because _everything_ dies in the fall, and sometimes that’s all I think of them as. The parents who _died_. Sometimes I can’t think of anything beyond the fact that they were both _murdered_ and-”

“Shhh.” Jason whispered gently, rubbing at Tim’s shoulder like he was trying to warm him up. Tim hiccupped a gasp as Jason pressed his lips to his temple. “Stop. Don’t do this to yourself, beautiful.”

Tim was silent for a moment, catching the breath he was forgetting to inhale. But finally, he slumped, relaxed his muscles and leaned into Jason’s throat.

“…I just miss them so much.”

“And you’re always gonna.” Jason said simply. “But they’d want you _happy_. The happiest you _can_ be, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“And they’d want you happy when you think of _them_.” Jason continued. “They’d want you to think of those Thanksgivings, not the Halloweens.”

Silence, and then, “The New Year’s parties weren’t too bad either.”

“Then think of those, too. And _only_ those.” Jason smirked against his skin. Chilled from the autumn breeze, smelling like vanilla and the remnants of his cologne. The scent of the laundry soap wafting up from the scarf around his neck. “Don’t you worry about those Halloweens, love. I’ll handle those.”

Tim glanced up through his lashes, shifting to dig in his pocket at the sudden buzzing of his communicator. “Meaning?”

“Meaning it’s never too late to make new holiday memories.” Jason hummed, watching as Tim pulled out the device out, read the text from the Bat over his shoulder. The mission was apparently done, and the bad guys were apprehended. “And, beyond _my_ incredibly hot self, I can think of two other injured assholes back home who would _love_ to make some with you.”

“Sounds exciting, Jay.” Tim laughed, snapping the communicator off and uncurling from Jason’s side to stand. He held his hands out for Jason to take, and hauled him to his feet, clinking their paper cups together before wrapping his arms tightly around Jason’s torso, hoping to silently relay the immense gratitude he was feeling, and relaxing as Jason returned the embrace.

“I can’t wait.”

~~

Halloween was fine. Enjoyable, even. Jason loved the candy, loved the creativity of the costumes – even the zombie ones.

But he hated the aftermath. Hated how Halloween lingered, how sad it felt. Rotting pumpkins, dirty spider webs, skeletons hanging from trees without limbs. There was no joy in them anymore. More of a bitterness. A laziness, because no one wanted to clean up after Halloween, already too focused on what to get their loved ones for Christmas.

It was already the second weekend of November, and he and Damian were walking that monster of a dog, Titus, through a nearby neighborhood. Most of the decorations were down, or transferred to just general Autumn décor, but there was one house, down at the end of the street, that still had its ghoulish light show going.

And there were a couple reasons Jason didn’t like it. For one, it was awful. He could put together a better light show in his sleep. So for them to continue parading it around as ‘art’ for weeks after the fact? Come on.

For two, the predominant color of their yearly show was green. A sickly green, a yellowish-green, a green far too similar to the hue of the Lazarus Pits.

It was almost funny, how _not_ over his resurrection he was. And how many resurrections had they gone through since? His was old news. The first of many.

But it wasn’t old news to him. It still haunted his nightmares, shadowed after him in the daytime. Still influenced his choices. Melted into his words like butter and made them harsh.

It’d been years. Going on twenty. But he’d learned to deal with it. Didn’t need to talk about it, like Tim did. Didn’t let it completely wreck him, like Dick.

He could face it head on. Steel himself, shut his mouth and just sigh.

It probably wasn’t the best coping method, keeping it all inside. But he was never the best with his words, never the best with external emotional communication. So it worked for him.

Titus suddenly whined, and it pulled Jason out of his brain. Suddenly, he felt two eyes on him, and blinked, glanced down to see Damian staring curiously up at him.

“Are you alright?” Damian asked, with a sincerity Jason remembered he didn’t always have. He always wondered where it came from, as it seemed to appear after the four of them came together. From Dick perhaps, when he first held him? Maybe from Tim, the first time he snuck a kiss at a gala? Or from Jason himself, when he whispered that first tender ‘I love you, Damian,’ and meant every word?

“Of course.” Jason grinned, throwing an arm around Damian’s shoulders and pulling him tight to his side. Damian stumbled just once as they continued walking, before following the movement, dropping flush against Jason’s side. “Never better.”

And it was an odd sort of bond between the two of them. Maybe because they’d both died. Maybe because they’d both been resurrected. Maybe because they both had sharp tongues and dark souls – but Damian always knew when Jason was lying. He always seemed able to read the reason why, too. He was just that _good_.

This moment was no different.

He didn’t say anything, though. Not this time. Just stared up at Jason with those open, soulful, ocean eyes, and wrapped both his arms around Jason’s torso. Locked his hands together on the other side, practically tied them with the end of Titus’s leash, as if to say, _I’ve got you, beloved, I won’t let you fall._

Jason smiled, snorted a laugh, as the house’s eerie green light show continued, as the flashes bounced off Damian’s dark skin. He closed his eyes, leaned his lips on Damian’s forehead, trusted Damian enough to let him lead them, as they continued down the sidewalk.

“I’m glad.” Jason whispered, shivering just slightly as he felt Damian began to stroke his side. “I’m glad you didn’t have to come back the same way I did.”

Because the Lazarus Pit was awful, and even back then, even when Damian was nothing more than an annoyance, nothing more than just a kid who deserved better-

“I’m glad you didn’t have to go through the Pit too, babe.”

And Damian continued to hold him, but hummed. “Oh yes, because being stabbed through by an alien shiv was so much _better_.”

Jason couldn’t help but cackle again, pushing against Damian and forcing their bundle to zag drunkenly across the lane.

“Damian-”

“I’m just saying. Don’t knock it.” Damian cut off, pushing his face into Jason’s throat. At first, Jason thought he was going to kiss him, peck at his pulse, maybe bite at it. But then, as Damian spoke, he realized the younger was just trying to…hide his face. “Don’t knock the magic that brought you back to me.”

Jason wanted to chuckle at that, but found himself unable to. The smile, though, that remained, as he opened his eyes. “Back? You didn’t know me back then.”

“A rare mistake made by my mother.” Damian decided. “That and making you go through the experience by yourself. If I’d have been there, that would not have happened.”

“Beautiful, you were like, _three_.”

“Five, actually. Going on six.” Damian claimed, and when he shifted his face, Jason could feel the embarrassed heat in his cheeks. “But my statement remains.”

“I bet it does.” Jason sniggered, kissing at his hair, even as Titus pulled on the leash, and, due to their positioning, at the both of them. It was almost a true _101 Dalmatians_ moment. “But whether you were there or not, doesn’t negate the fact.”

“And what fact would that be?”

“The Pit messed me up.” The smile finally waned, just a little. “I came back _wrong_.”

The world seemed to go silent at the statement, and even Damian hesitated.

But the moment was just that, and Damian suddenly scoffed.

“Nonsense.” Damian announced. “You came back _perfect_.”

Now it was Jason’s turn to pause.

“And I know of at least two lovers at home who would agree with me.” Damian pushed, shifting so he could look back up at Jason. “And _you’re_ the one always pushing for a democracy. Majority rules, remember? Or are you really going to make us-” A smirk, flirtatious and seductive, all in one. “- _prove_ that point, later this evening?”

Jason’s mind stuttered at the implication.

“Our flaws do not make us, that’s what Grayson’s always saying. But if I may,” Damian’s voice lowered, and he squeezed Jason’s side with both hands, leaned up to kiss Jason’s face. “I find your flaws gorgeous.”

Jason stared down at him with wide eyes, only to meet ones that were more adoring than he’d ever seen. And he couldn’t hold it, couldn’t keep the gaze, and had to look away. Stare at the houses, and the cars and the yards.

And he realized – they were passed the green lights.

_More_ than passed it, in Jason’s inattention – or rather, _full_ attention, on Damian – they’d left the house, turned the corner and were now on another street completely. Away from terrible lights, away from the terrible reminders.

And knowing Damian, that’s probably how he planned this conversation to go.

Jason huffed an incredulous breath, looked back down at Damian, who was still watching expectantly, and kissed him. Bit his lip, even, for good measure. “You’re a sentimental little _monster_.”

Damian’s eyes twinkled, and he grinned, leaned his head on Jason’s shoulder. “I hope that’s not a new name for the _bedroom_. I’m not sure how well it would go over.”

Jason couldn’t hold back anymore. Because suddenly - all thoughts and memories of the Lazarus Pit were gone, for the time being. Replaced with happiness, with complete and _utter_ affection for the man holding him in his arms. And he just couldn’t hold it in, not anymore. He kept Damian to his side, leaned his head on his, as they continued their awkward walk with their dog, and he _laughed_.

Loud and long and hearty, Jason Todd laughed.

~~

If Dick were honest with himself, he wouldn’t have been able to find him without Titus’s help. Because when Damian didn’t want to be found, he _wouldn’t_ be.

But nobody loved Damian more than Titus. Not even Dick, Tim or Jason.

So when Titus barked at the edge of the trees. When Titus waited until Dick began to follow him before taking off again, that little panic in his heart eased, ever so slightly.

Damian was in the clearing, not far from the forest path, where the four of them often had picnics, when the weather was nice. It hadn’t been lately, with fall quickly giving way to the oncoming winter. Temperatures closer to freezing more often than not nowadays. Today, though, wasn’t bad. A bit sunny, the wind not as harsh as it could be.

Maybe they could have one last picnic later, for dinner.

He could worry about it later, more worried about the man in front of him right now, lying on the ground, ankles crossed and hands clasped across his stomach. He looked like a _corpse_ , like he was waiting to _be_ one, but Dick refused to let that thought linger.

Instead, he motioned for Titus to stay, walked forward, and laid down next to him, mimicking the pose and staring up into the leafy canopy. The blue sky was barely visible due to the waves of leaves blocking the way. Reds, oranges, yellows, some brown. It was lovely, to be sure, but Dick wasn’t entirely sure why they were lying here staring at it.

After a minute or two, he rolled his head to the side, stared at Damian’s profile. At his dark skin, darker hair, and bright eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Damian only shrugged.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Another shrug.

Dick unclasped his hands and reached out, wormed his way between Damian’s hands, and intertwined their fingers.

“Try me.”

Damian squeezed his fingers tightly, inhaling and holding a breath as the wind picked up. Dick looked back up at the trees, watched as the leaves snapped away from their branches and drifted away on the breeze.

They could be a scene from a movie. The hero and his lover, enjoying an autumn afternoon, with a soft soundtrack around them. If it were a romantic comedy, one of them would probably roll over soon, say something romantic or sweet. Maybe they’d start making out. The music would speed up, and then it would cut to them in bed. And Dick definitely wasn’t against that. _Any_ of that.

But it wasn’t a movie. This was real life.

Damian let out his held breath in a long exhale. Squeezed Dick’s fingers again, and whispered.

“Everything leaves.”

Dick blinked.

“Well, yeah.” Dick said, monotonously. “We’re in a _forest_. Of course everything is _leaves_.”

Damian huffed, let go of Dick’s hand, and pushed it away.

“Forget it.”

Dick smiled, laughed a little as he rolled onto his side, bracketed his arm over Damian’s torso and stared down at him. Shifted the hand that had just been holding Damian’s up, and pushed his hair off his forehead.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I couldn’t pass it up.” Dick tried, running his fingers over the rim of Damian’s knitted hat. “Now, seriously. Tell me what’s wrong. What do you mean everything leaves?”

Damian pursed his lips, trying his hardest to stay mad. But if Dick learned anything from this mess that was their ridiculous four-way relationship, it was that he wouldn’t. Couldn’t, really.

And history won out.

“…Nothing is permanent. Nothing is _forever_. Eventually, everything _leaves_.” He muttered, dropping those too-blue eyes down as he began to fiddle with the drawstrings of Dick’s hooded jacket. “The leaves abandon the trees, a soul disowns its body at death…” A gulp, then he sucked his lips between his teeth. “…And lovers will discard each other.”

Dick frowned, stilled his hand on Damian’s hair.

“Oh, Damian…”

“And not necessarily by _choice_ , I am _not_ saying you will leave me, either in general or for each other, so don’t _start_.” Damian snapped, face fiery, for just a moment, before it dropped again. “I am just…I am just saying.”

Dick tilted his head – because that’s _exactly_ what Damian was saying. Damian’s insecurities in their relationship was no secret, the other three knew about them easily, talked about them often. But there was more to this right now, he knew, so. He waited.

“I am the youngest.” Damian murmured, tugging on the drawstrings. “It is destiny for the three of you to die first.”

Ah.

“You three _will_ die first. Probably one by one, maybe all at once, you’re all stupid enough to do something as such.” Damian continued, trying to keep up his bravado to hide his real terror. Dick saw right through it, though, just as he always had. He let his lips twitch up in a smile, leaned down and began running his nose softly across Damian’s cheek, as he carried on. “But regardless, you will all leave me alone, eventually. Just like everything leaves everything else.”

Dick remained silent, breathed kisses along Damian’s jaw.

“Please don’t.” Damian pleaded softly. Dick felt his hands tighten on the edges of his jacket, pull him ever so slightly downwards. “Beloved-” He gasped, more in panic than in pleasure. “Richard-!”

Dick didn’t stop. Kept kissing his face, nuzzling his cheek. Even when he began to taste tears.

“Please don’t leave me.” Damian sobbed quietly. “I don’t want to be alone.”

And Dick couldn’t help but grin against Damian’s skin. He loved his little bird like this, broken and honest. Shattered and desperate, waiting for Dick to pull him back together again.

And Dick couldn’t wait to do just that, it was his favorite thing to do. He only wished Jason and Tim were here to help him.

Because they all adored him, to the very depth of their hearts. But they could never love him enough, not individually, not as a trio, that he would actually _remember_ that fact.

Still. That would never stop them from trying, from showering him with the affection he so rightly deserved.

“I don’t want to be alone.” Damian repeated, as he wound his arms around Dick’s back, as Dick moved to hold him just as tightly. “I don’t…Grayson, I don’t want to be without you. Without _any_ of you, I-”

“I know. I know you don’t, Damian.” Dick cut off, suppressing a grunt as Damian dug his nails into his spine. He heard Titus whine, still keeping guard a few feet away. He pressed another kiss to Damian’s face, as he gently began to pull back. “But, no matter what. Come hell or high water. Or…broken bones or distance or hell, even _death itself_ …”

He stared down into Damian’s face, puffy and red and tearstained. Ran a thumb through a tear track, smiled as Damian’s inhale hitched.

“Just trust me when I say,” Dick leaned down, pressed their foreheads together, smiled when Damian sniffed and pushed up, near silently demanding a kiss. Not, Dick mused, as he descended to meet him, descended to devour those pouty little lips, that he was ever going to deny him of that anyway.

And hey - maybe he’d get his movie moment after all.

“That you never, _ever_ will be.”

~~

Jason held his hand out in front of the other two, saw Tim’s head swivel to stare up at him.

“Keep him here,” Jason nodded towards Damian, who scowled. “I’ll get ‘Wing.”

Tim nodded, and took Damian’s hand. Damian seemed annoyed, but not about to argue. Just stepped closer to Tim’s side.

“We don’t both need to be re-traumatized.” Jason explained gently anyway, leaning down and kissing his forehead, shifting to do the same to Tim. “I’ll be right back.”

Jason walked away before the other two could get any ideas, and was grateful when he didn’t hear them follow after him.

It’s not like it much mattered, anyway. The two of them could see Dick from where they were standing. Hell, they could all see Dick from inside the manor, that’s how they knew where he was.

Still.

Jason sauntered into the graveyard, pushing against the jarring, cold wind. He took in Dick’s bowed back, his knees curled to his chest, the messy hair. They all saw him when they returned from the Wayne Enterprises offices, and had no clue how long he’d been out here. Hours, potentially. Probably.

Regardless, Jason plopped down next to him. Didn’t look at him, stared forward at the graves. At his, and Damian’s. At Dick’s, from that time he pretended to be six feet under. Bruce and his parents’ graves were in the distance, close but not in Dick’s focus.

Jason sighed. “Dick-”

“Shut up.” Dick snapped, not looking away from the tombstones, each in varying degrees of erosion – and Jason still couldn’t believe that they all mutually agreed to let them remain standing. “Just…shut up, okay? I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hear what,” Jason droned. “That it’s stupid you’re sitting out here with a storm on its way? Or that your little vigil here is pointless?”

He could see Dick biting his tongue, but didn’t apologize.

“I just…I just need to do this, Jay. Okay?” Dick tried, voice tight and tired. “I need to _remember_.”

“Remember _what_.”

“That you died, and I could have stopped it.” Dick’s voice seemed to have suddenly gone hoarse. He squeezed his knees, breathed deeply. “That _Damian_ died, and I _should_ have stopped it.”

“Oh, for the love of god.” Jason groaned. “You know what? I’m glad I told Tim to hold him back.” Dick glanced over. “I had Damian stay back so he didn’t have to relive this shit again, since, god forbid, we both have enough. But now I think, I’m glad I had him stay back so he couldn’t _punch_ _you_ in your pretty, stupid face.”

Dick frowned, narrowed his eyes. “You don’t get it, Jason-”

“Oh, I get it just _fine_.” Jason hissed. “I’m the one who actually _died_ , remember? I lived it, beginning, middle, end. Not just the aftermath. Not just the _grief_.”

Dick looked away, huffed and stood.

“And I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry I died, I’m sorry _Damian_ died. And I’m sorry it took Damian and I so damn long to realize your grief. To _see_ it at all.” Jason jumped up after him, and when Dick stepped to the side, Jason followed. “So yeah, okay. Fine. Remember it. Remember _all_ the shit we went through. Remember that Damian and I were both _tortured_ first. Remember that we died. Remember that we were _murdered_.”

Dick turned away, curled his arms around himself.

“But I want you to remember something else, too. Okay?” Jason asked, voice dropping immediately, to a kinder tone. The wind gushed, cool and crisp, and that storm must have been closer than the weather forecasts predicted. Jason glanced back at the other two, standing where he’d left them. Damian was curled into Tim’s chest, hiding from the wind, and Tim held him easily, with his arms tight around his shoulders. Both of them were watching, hair and coats and scarves blowing every which way, with blank, ghostly, worried eyes. “Can you do that for me, Dick?”

Dick peeked over at him, tensing when Jason stepped forward again, gingerly took Dick’s jaw in his hands.

“I want you to remember that we _came back_ , too.” He whispered, pulling Dick’s face close to his, their noses brushing together. “We came back, Dickie. You don’t have to mourn us anymore.”

Dick sniffed, closed his eyes. “But I should.”

“But you _shouldn’t_.” Jason pushed. “I think I can speak for Dames when I say, we don’t want you to.”

And it wasn’t the magic words, at least Jason didn’t think so, but Dick collapsed into his arms at the sound of them anyway. Buried his face against Jason’s neck, clung to his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Jay.” Dick begged. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason knew it wasn’t just for this moment. It wasn’t for forcing Jason and the others to come out here and drag his ass back in the house. It was for everything else. For the sins of years past.

“Don’t worry, handsome. I think I can find it in my dark old heart to forgive you.” Jason laughed. “And I don’t think Damian’s ever looked at you in a bad light in his life, so I’m pretty sure you’re safe there.”

Dick flashed a smile against his throat, but Jason knew it was sad.

“Now come on.” Jason hummed, subtly turning Dick away from the gravestones – and talk about bad Halloween decoration. It didn’t matter that it was almost Thanksgiving, if Jason had his way, all these useless memorials would have been demolished ages ago – and towards the two waiting for them. “I hear Timmy wanted to have a movie night tonight. Just the four of us. And you know how I feel about cuddling up with you three and watching a movie. And how I feel about those things that might _keep_ me from cuddling up with you three and watching a movie.”

Dick laughed – a bitter and sad sound. He still wasn’t there, mentally. And probably wouldn’t be for the rest of the night. But moods are moods, and sometimes you just had to be in one.

But if you had to be in one, Jason thought as they walked forward – as Tim held his arm out to them as they approached, as Dick wrapped both of their younger partners in his embrace, kissed at Damian’s face with more whispered apologies, as Damian pulled them all towards the manor doors – there weren’t many better places than here.

Here and with those who love you most. Here and with those you love most, too.

~~

Dick watched from the bed, from underneath Jason’s arm, as Tim brought in a tray of snacks. Popcorn, cider, and a cup of tea for Dick, who was still chilly from his bout outside. As Damian started a fire in their bedroom fireplace, and dug in the closet for their coziest comforter. He settled for a pale yellow one, big and fluffy, and set to spreading it across the bed, across Jason and Dick already lying there.

He immediately followed after it, diving underneath its warmth. Dick grabbed him instantly, nestling him in an embrace, kissing his face even as Damian rolled his eyes, reached for the mug of tea Tim was handing him.

“Drink it.” Damian ordered, handing a cider to Jason too, before huddling up to Tim’s side, reaching into the bowl of popcorn even as their fourth settled in next to him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Drink _all_ of it.”

“No horror, right?” Dick asked tentatively, watching as Damian fed Jason a piece of popcorn over his head. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m kind of all Halloween-ed out.”

“Dick, it’s mid-November.” Tim reminded with a laugh. “But no, it’s not. I mean, last I checked, _A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving_ really didn’t count as a horror film. But I guess it’s up to viewer interpretation.”

“Good.” Dick smiled as Jason cackled. He leaned back into Jason’s chest, even as he reached out and took hold of Damian’s hand. He inhaled, as he looked up at Tim, who met his gaze with a smirk, exhaled as he settled amongst his lovers.

Honestly, they didn’t need the movie. They could be lying here, just staring at each other in silence, and Dick would be content with that. Content to lie here with them, fears born of the season forgotten, for the time being. He smiled and leaned up, kissed Tim’s fingers draped across Damian’s shoulder as he hit play on the remote.

“ _Very_ good.”

“Shush, babe, the movie’s startin’.” Jason whispered, flopping across his back. Damian just glanced at them, shoving more popcorn into his mouth. “And I _will_ smother you if I miss some dialogue.”

Dick just laughed, and did as he was told.


End file.
